


A Helping Hand for the Holidays

by Mistykins06



Category: Sherlock TV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistykins06/pseuds/Mistykins06
Summary: It's Early in December of Season two, And Molly asks Sherlock for a favor...





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally an off-shot of the pursuit of the ideal, it has no real bearing on the plot of that story and thus morphed itself into a Christmas one shot. All you need to know is that this is in the weeks prior it the Christmas party in A Scandal in Belgravia, in which Sherlock already visits Molly's flat quite regularly as a bolt hole/ escape from his real world. He has his own special chair, his own special mug and is very much a creature of habit. And so, Merry Christmas, or whatever happy holiday you celebrate ( or don't) your choice and enjoy!

As the end of the year drew nigh, Sherlock Holmes became even more of an eccentric reclusive than he usually was. Every time he wandered down the street it seemed a good number of the good citizens of London had the audacity to wish HIM a Merry Christmas despite the clear lack of 'good will toward his fellow man' that he wore with his usual scowl. 

It was annoying. 

It was on one such blustery afternoon while he was out investigating a case with Lestrade when his phone beeped, as he was right in the middle of explaining what Lestrade and his team missed, he first heard his standard and generic text sound go off. Ignoring it, he pressed on. Whomever it was could wait. Several others quickly followed but still he payed no attention to the phone or whoever it was contacting him. In fact, it was nearly three hours and five arrests and confessions later with the NSY and only then after settling himself into a cab that he finally remembered to look at the phone. 

Are you out and about and free by any chance? I need a man. - Molly

No! Not like... Not like that. I just need some help. With something heavy. - Molly

And you know you owe me at least one big favor. I'm calling it in now. - Molly 

It's completely fine if you're busy. I'll ask someone else.- Molly 

I'm sorry if I bothered you. Disregard previous request. I got someone else to come. But do stop by soon. Toby misses you I think. - Molly

After reading the belated missives, he returned his phone to his pocket. Not bothering to send a reply. A brief touch of guilt settled on him. Molly had asked him for help. She'd never done that before. In fact, Molly Hooper rarely asked for anything for herself, of anyone let alone him. She would have been in dire need to have asked someone for any type of help. And even more trouble if she'd needed to ask him, even though he was, well, himself. 

Molly had needed him. HIM for a specific reason, and he had not even given her the courtesy of a response. A simple 'on a case' would have sufficed. But no, the bastard that he was had blindly just hit his ignore button, effectively ignoring her cry for help. 

And while he was callous and cold, he would never intentionally ignore a cry for help from someone like Molly. Besides, what if she was mad at him now? Could this cause him to loose her favor? He needed, NEEDED to be on her good side. She was vital to his success, he reasoned to himself. After all, Molly ran tests for him and stayed late awaiting lab results for him, along with suppling aids for his unconventional home experiments, all with that bright smile and twinkle in her eye. What if he lost her? Well, not lost her exactly, but all that she represented. 

His logic and reasoning argued with his rarely used conscience. Sure, he hadn't known that it was Molly who'd been texting. If he had known... If he had known that Molly had really needed him what? The answer he gave himself surprised him if had known it was her than he would have gone to great lengths to help her. 

After all, she had been know to have relationships with criminal masterminds. One never knew the trouble she could get herself into. He really ought to be prepared... That is IF Molly ever text him again. Decision made, Sherlock picked up his mobile and went into the settlings quickly editing Molly's setting to a slightly different, yet still perfectly expectable generic ring tone. If Molly text him after all, he reasoned, then it would be for something important after all and not something trivial or mundane. She knew him well enough not to be that stupid he assured himself one last time. Satisfied he tucked his phone away and paid the fare before walking to his door. 

••••••*•••••*•••••••*••••••

The evening found Sherlock in a foul, foul mood. Baker Street was utterly empty save himself. And alone was I barely boring to him that evening. Mrs Hudson had gone out with friends, and John was out eager to be able to make tinned time to at whatever the girlfriend of the month was trying his damnedest to 'get off' as he was so fond of saying. That man was a slave to his boring, base, biological needs. Speaking of Slaves, well metaphorically at least, the Woman herself had been quiet the past day or, not that wanted to encourage that hornets nest in the slightest. But still, the flat was boring. 

 

And behind it all too was an irritating little longing to go over to Molly's and to apologize in person, as irrational as that idea was. After all, he had been on a case when she'd text. Molly surely had figured that out and understood. And yet, still he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let her down in some huge way. He was bored, bored and slightly guilty, not that he'd ever admit it. Throwing the book he was trying in vain to distract himself with gave up and lunged to grab his phone and at least text the woman plaguing his thoughts. 

I trust you were able to accomplish whatever you needed an able bodied man for today. -SH

Sending it he bent to pick up a different book and flipped watched and waited. Seconds passed that turned into moments before the moments began to turned into minutes and there was no reply. Molly typically answers Frustrated he stood and stomped about seeking a distraction. Images of reasons that she may now be to busy flooded his mind and he was not liking any of the scenarios that it was showing him. 

Suddenly a clear chime rang out. Molly's new tone. Leaping over the table, he grabbed the phone and read. 

My friend Max helped me with the hardest part, but I'm still rather in a bit of a fix. I think I've bit of more than I can chew. - Molly

Without thought or reply he swung on his coat and headed out the door, hailing a cab and letting her address fly out. Once they were in motion he debated texting her, but since he was already en-route he decided not to give her the chance to say no, or himself the commitment of arriving. After all. Case could come up... Or he could just loose his nerve and he could just turn around and go back home and ignore her more. 

"We're here sir." The bored cabbie mumbled as he pulled up to the kerb. 

Damn. So much for changing his mind. He pulled out the fare and tip from bus wallet and handed to the cabby who then had the nerve to join the ranks of idiots who wished him a Merry Christmas and a blessed new year. With a roll of his eyes Sherlock walked up into the building and up to the third story flat. He stood at the door, hesitating just another more, until he heard the sound of a frustrated yell come from the flat followed by a loud cry of "Oh for Gods sake what it wrong with you!" 

He knocked. 

Two moments later a messy and hair all mussed up Molly Hooper appeared at the door. "Sherlock! What are you doing here? Oh. Give me a 'mo okay?" The door slammed shut in his face and Sherlock was perplexed as he heard her groaning and skidding something heavy away from the door. What on earth was going on?

When the door flew open again, Molly, whose hair was now more out than in the pony tail she favored stood smiling at him. His eyes were drown to the picture on her flannel sweatshirt of a grey kitten batting at an ornament dangling from a the tree. 

"Come in! What brings you by tonight?" She asked brightly as she walked back into her room shoving boxs out of her way. Sherlock stopped as soon as he'd closed the door behind him. Starring at a behemoth tree that's was dwarfing the small flats main living area, blocking half the couch and obstructing the view to the tv by nearly half. 

"What are you doing?" He asked dumbly. 

Molly smiled widely. "I'm celebrating Christmas of course!"

"With a forest growing in center of your flat?" Sherlock dead paned. 

She tilted her head and considered. "It is a bit much." She allowed. 

"What on Earth led you to taking in a   
topiary as a flatmate?"

"I really wanted a tree this year," Molly shrugged. "I've never bothered with one on my own, but this year I want to do Christmas right. Tree, presents and the whole lot. I may have gone a bit overboard."An eyebrow shot up on Sherlock's face. "Or a lot overboard." She laughed. 

"I'm assuming this is what you requested assistance for?"

"I..." Molly looked a bit put off. "Yes. It was the middle of the day on a Tuesday, and you were the only person I could think of who doesn't have a...set schedule." She pinked up. 

Sherlock had been in the process of removing his Belstaff to hang up, but stopped to look at her. "A job? You don't think I have a job?"

Molly turned away, bending, to pick up her hopelessly tangled stand of multicolored lights. "I don't say that."

"You were thinking it though." That pricked at him for some reason, made him feel the need to defend himself. It's not as if he were some lazy, bum. Completely unreliable... "I am a consulting detective, and as much as I wish interesting crimes would happen on a more more regular basis..."

"I'm not arguing that you do valuable and important work Sherlock. I simply needed some help and chanced asking you okay? Geez, don't make such a big deal about it." She huffed as she sat down and the floor, pulling and tugging on the strand Sherlock took advantage of her concentration to study her and try to work out how her remark could annoy him so much. She was still concentrating on the tangle in front of her. "Not that you even answered." She mumbled under her breath, eyes cast down on the lights. He heard her perfectly clear however. So his silence had bothered her. Good.

Although why that pleased him so he was unsure. "I was on a case. Didn't even look to see who was calling. I'd have answered if I'd have seen it was you." Sherlock admitted. "I changed the ring tone so that I'll know it's you next time."

For some reason, Molly's head shot up and she looked hard at him. "Oh, did you really?" She looked curiously at him. "Which one am I, now?" She asked, not looking away from him. 

Grimacing, Sherlock pulled out the phone and looked to see which tone he'd used. Why should the tone he chose even matter? "Looks like you are now set as the 'Trill' tone." He played it for her, it's insistent, yet peppy tones ringing out. Molly's eyes lit. "You approve, I take it."

A smile lifted one corner of her mouth. "I'm just rather glad you didn't use the Duck tone."

"Oh, no. I only use that one to annoy Mycroft when I'm in his presence and at his beck and call." He finished 

"Like at the palace a few weeks ago?" 

"Well, no not that time. I didn't exactly have an available pocket with the sheet I wore that day."

Molly laughed aloud. "Too true! There are so few dresses with pockets. It's a really shame." She suddenly huffed out a keening annoyed sound. "That's it. I beed a break from this tangled rats nest. Cocoa?" She said standing. 

"Yes, please."

As she walked into the kitchen nook around the corner and he reached down and grabbed the knot of lights to work at them before sitting himself in the plush familiar chair the both thought of as 'his'. Homey silence passed between them as Molly worked to prepare the drinks and Sherlock used a pin tool used to pick locks he'd brought out from his pocket to loosen the snares of the lit mass before him. By the time Molly returned he was finished and coiling the lights into a manageable bundle.

"Well done! Thank you for tackling that." Molly sat her mug down and walked over to the behemoth fir and began winding the string around the base of the tree. She made several passes, winding her way around, while Sherlock sat watching and taking small, regular sips of his delicious drink. Soon however, Molly reached her arms high above her head, but still could reach the final foot and a half of the tree. Watching as she plotted how to proceed he suddenly found himself standing and walking behind her to take over the final winding passed around the tree. 

He was nearly there when the cord snagged. Leaning forward to remove the errant strand he placed his spare hand on Molly's shoulder to gain leverage. He'd completed the task easily, but soon grew aware of how Molly had stilled beneath his touch 

Perhaps he should have removed his hand, stepped back and returned to the chair he'd recently occupied. His chair. But he didn't. Instead, Sherlock pulled her to his side and held his breath as Molly wrapped her arm loosely about his waist, absorbing the surprising ease that came from standing so in the soft light from a tree. 

The smell of her light perfume that was mixed with the heady scent of the balsam tree and wondered at how his nose was able to seek and separate those sweet notes despite the appealing yet strong scent of the evergreen before him. 

It was an easy, simple yet peaceful feeling holding her and the soft glow the lights let off. It was a tender intimate moment. One that was far to intimate for friends to find themselves in. Of course he only realized that face after Molly turned and tipped her head up to look at him. And the calm and peace he saw there both soothed and terrified him. How easy it be to tilt her chin up that tiny little bit and draw their heads together. How much he knew that he didn't deserve to trifle with the relationship they had worked to establish together personally and professionally. And , especially how he was more likely to break Molly's heart more than keep it. 

Sherlock dropped his arm and spun away from her, picking up the mug of cocoa he'd abandoned to keep his foolish hands from reaching close again. 

Molly stayed still as a statue for well over a minute, then mumbled and rounded the tree to bring out a box of old and time faded ornaments. She placed a few sporadically across the branches as Sherlock observed her progress and her predictable pattern of choosing which ornament (sentiment) and then stepping back to watch as she places ornaments, up down up down pattern, while he sat considering her. Twenty minutes later she turned around, declaring the job done. 

She was wrong though. "You missed a spot." He declared. 

"No! I made sure not too. Where?"

"There." 

"I don't see it. Show me. "

"To the left of the snowman." 

"Which snowman?"

"The..." Damn. He stood and pointed to a gap. "That one here! How can you not see it?"

Molly who'd flopped herself onto the couch simple looked up at him from where she lay, eyes shining in the low light. "It looks fine to me, but if it bothers you feel free to fix it."

A challenge. He looked back at the gap, thought of how he'd feel knowing it just was...there. With a groan he quickly repositioned three ornaments to make it more cohesive and expectable for the eye to bear. Satisfied her went to return once more to his spot. 

"Now you've made a gap on this side." 

"Where?" Sherlock demanded. 

"To the right lower corner of the glittered star. " Molly informed. 

Looking again he easily found the star she meant and set about 'fixing' the new gap. It was nearly like playing chess, only against a tree, but Sherlock was determined to win. However he simple needed more pieces of on the...branches. 

"You simply have an insufficient number of decorations Molly." He stood back and declared. 

"I had more, but Toby broke them when he was still a kitten." She yawned. "Maybe I'll pick up more. Later though." 

Sherlock looked at her, studying the tired smile that she wore as she looked at her tree. Molly, happy content and sleepy. She was beautiful. And that thought meant it was absolutely time to leave. Reaching for his coat, Moly stopped him. "Sherlock? Before you go...." She stood and went round to a large box on the kitchenette table. "What do you think I should use to top my tree with?" She spun around holding a slightly tarnished star and a time worn angel. Weighing them between each hand.

His breathing failed him to just look at her, even more mussed hair then when he'd arrived, amused yet focused smile on her face. She was so beautiful. 

Of course, he found both choices inane as each were ludicrous and ridiculous. The whole Christmas season was ridiculous and arbitrary. Yet... "The angel is a feminized version of the angel Gabriel, so by choosing her, you are supporting her fully in her choice to be to known as Gabrielle. So you are showing how excepting you are of people and angels life choices. The star however, reflects your eternal optimism and your consistent nature and would be a satisfactory note to the that. "Molly was laughing. Boldly, heartily laughing even. And at him. He knew he should find it in himself to be offended, but he merely grinned at her like a fool. "What?"

"I'm not looking for a philosophical debate, Sherlock. I merely wondered which one you thought might fit better." She chuckled again. 

"Oh. " Damn. No, he absolutely wasn't going to blush. He refused. With a quick reevaluation, he frowned. Neither was going to fit the top of her monster tree. "Molly, I don't see either of those making of up without damaging the ceiling of your flat. Any other options?"

Molly frowned. " I suppose I could stick a bow on the top. A large one."

"A bow. Yes. That would be a festive option. Everything looks better with a bow on it a Christmas doesn't it?" What was he saying? He needed to leave. Immediately. "Well I'm off, if you're all set. Text me if you find you need a hand with that bow." 

Coat half way on, Molly spoke again. "Have any plans for Christmas?" 

"Nothing if I can help it. John mentioned that he wanted to have a party, but there is no way that's going to be allowed to happen in my residence. " Scarf now wrapped around his neck, Molly cut in once more. 

"Will you and John be getting a tree for your flat?"

"I should think not. Besides Molly, you have more than your fair share of tree. Best we avoid the practice lest we set off the balance of the universe out, eh?" Sherlock grinned. "I'm off now, good evening."

"Sherlock." Molly smiled. "Merry Christmas, and thank you."

He held her eye and nodded once, closing the door knowing only one thing. Christmas suited Molly Hooper far more than he was comfortable with.


End file.
